Haunted
by xEssentialSoulx
Summary: Thranduil is going taking a walk and remembers his late wife. AU.


A disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except Calaerien.

The Hobbit

Haunted (A one shot)

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Thranduil leisurely sauntered amidst the forest; the particles of light that stretched in to the earth beneath the holes in the canopy of vibrant green trees and kissed his soft flesh with their warmth. Some of the leaves that had fallen free from their branches garland his path where they lie. A few more floated around him as he continued forward; he could hear the gentle sounds of the stream that was just within range of his strong elven hearing. His mind gradually wandered, which normally was always an objection. Today, however, he couldn't even begin to have the will to concentrate on much to stop it. He was tired; he didn't have the energy to keep his mind occupied. He didn't have the vitality in any capacity to hold her out of his thoughts. He could almost hear her calling his name through the wind that floated through the gently swaying leaves.

This was her favorite time of year; she loved all the liveliness that belonged to the forest around this time. He momentarily paused, listening, with lidded eyes; he could hear her soft laughter in the breeze. She had been the love of his immortal life. No one could capture his gaze like she had; he had not loved, and never would be able to love another. She had been his other half; he had never been complete until he had met her. Now all he felt was void and broken. She was the light of his life; she obliterated all the darkness that tried to creep into his soul, his very essence and fiber of his being. Without her he was condemned to the black abyss with no hope of escape. Since her forced departure of Middle-Earth he has not returned here, to her favorite place.

That's why this cold stone structure was placed here, in her honor and yet he had never laid eyes upon it, until now. It was definitely of her likeness, but it didn't come close to doing her justice. Nothing that could ever be built would truly be able to capture her beauty. She was his everything, she was what kept him grounded, without her he was floating away lost in the wind and found himself in the relentless darkness. Blackness that engulfed the parts of Thranduil, he had left. They were the only part of him that she hadn't taken with her the moment she released her last breath and the life vacated her body. She was his beginning and end, he would have moved all of Middle-Earth if she had but asked. Her beauty was unmatched by any other, and no one would be able to deter him from her if they tried. When she died, Middle-Earth no longer pulsated with splendor. When she left, she hadn't gone alone, she had taken the largest piece of him, the best piece of him with her.

The pain and the joy entangled within his chest, at the memory of her, flooded through his every fiber working its way from his core to his fingertips and back again. It devoured him enticing him forward without his permission as moisture dampened his cheeks. His direction was controlled by some inner need that he could not control; it was as if his body had been taken over by his subconscious while its counterpart objected to no avail. He was unwillingly in motion as the force within propelled him sluggishly and stumbled forward. When his consciousness had finally erupted victorious, he found himself at the elven gates, the entrance into his very realm. Gazing upward into his beloved's face, she was entangled with vines that wound their way up her body. His hand slowly inched forward to pull some of the vines away. He stopped and stared up at the stone cold eyes that were carved into this lifeless structure. Fresh liquid decorated his lashes and leapt off to their unwilling freedom.

Why did he come here? To only torture his soul more because he believed he deserved it? She shouldn't have been the one to die that day. It should have been him; he should have lost his life. He would do anything to trade places with her. He would give up his very life and immortality, and all the riches within his realm if it meant she could once again breathe the breath of life. She needed to be, and he desperately needed her to be. This empty hole that was left within him grew larger every day, every hour, every minute and every second he breathes in the breaths that she can no longer take. His world was now forever in an abyss of darkness because she had been her beacon of light, his north star, his sun and his moon. She had helped guide his path and now he is stumbling unable to even see his own path.

Where had he been when she exhaled her last dying breath, what had he been doing, who, had he been battling that was so important that he could not of been with her. Had she been alone? Had someone stayed with her until the very end? Thranduil inhaled a strangled breath as the lump formed in his throat. He had felt it, there had been legends of such things, but he truly felt it, the shattering of his heart the moment she had left. She was gone and he knew the moment she left, that he had forever lost her for the rest of eternity… he would have to live the rest of his long life without her in it. The pain he felt in that moment was so unbearable and indescribable that it had brought him to his knees. If it hadn't been for one of his warriors he would have been slain. Even now many centuries later the pain was still as fresh as the day it had happened, he wished with all his might that the guard hadn't reflected the blade with his own. The ironic part that no matter how unbearable the pain he had not realized at the time that was what he was feeling, that she was leaving him behind.

How can he raise his son properly without her? She's the one that always knew what to do or what to say. Legolas would only grow to hate him, just as Elrond does. Thranduil knew that no matter what Elrond said he had never truly forgiven him for the death of his youngest daughter, Calaerien. Truthfully, Thranduil couldn't really blame Elrond, he hadn't forgiven himself either. Why hadn't it been him? It should have been him!

Legolas needed his mother! He would have been better off with her. Thranduil was literally grasping at straws, as he tried to do for Legolas, what she did so naturally. But, the damage had been done. The dwarves were to blame for what happened to his beloved. Why hadn't they protected her? The left her to die, he would never forgive them for their incompetence. Nearly all of Middle-Earth had loved his wife, she was so kind. She aided any in need regardless, of them being a smaller being, animal, human, elf or hobbit. She was always brining injured animals into the palace and nursing them back to health. If she hadn't been able to help them and they perished from their injuries or whatever ailed them, she would be heartbroken and she cried for their loss. When she would mourn for the lost, regardless whether it had been the first time she met them. He would go to her wrap his arms around her protectively, grace her with soft, gentle kisses on the head and whisper soothing words into her ears. He hated to see her cry; she was too wonderful to have tears admonish her captivating features. Why hadn't anyone bothered to aide her when she needed them most?

He remembered searching for her; the anxiety slowly consumed him, on top of the endless pain of indiscernible brokenness. He had ordered the warriors who had not been injured to tend to the wounded and the dead. Panic had filled him so entirely he felt as though he might burst. The moment he saw the wagon with only one body, his heart stopped. His heart shattered into millions of dust particles at the sight. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch her, it couldn't be true. It had to be a mistake. Her head lulled when he touched the cool flesh. Her dull blue eyes only stared back at him with lips that had turned an almost similar shade of blue. He stumbled forward, shaking his head slowly.

"Amin bes" (My Wife) Thranduil was inaudible in his daze as reality slowly sank in. He affectionately stroked her dark blood matted hair as it lay sprawled around her head like a halo. Thranduil leaned forward and pressed his lips with such tenderness to hers. He could not go without one last kiss. The tears stung his eyes so painfully that they left his lashes he could feel himself unraveling with the sorrow that destroyed everything he had left. He no longer had the willingness to live. How could he live without her? Her face was covered with dirt and speckles of blood. There was a large gash in her armor where the blade had pierced through. Crimson pooled beneath her as the blood seeped from the wound in her chest.

He shook the thought away when he reached to brush the vines that had wound and entangled their way around the stone sculpture he paused. Liquid dampened his cheeks, "Amin mela lle." (I love you)

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A/N: I hope I had enough feeling behind this, when I finished it wasn't in the same zone when I first started it (wrote it in two days). I think I want to do a full story on this so you can see their full life up until her death. What do you guys think? Please review and have a great day!


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